Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 8

  “Madness or not, ’tis complicated things have become. The lasses aren’t here.”

  “I’m too late?” he asked.

  “Too late?”

  “To save them,” he said. “I know you’re going to think this is crazy, but I came here to be a hero. To be your champion.”

  He smiled again, and the woman rolled her eyes. Damn, she was cute.

  “Are you going to tell me your name?”

  She tapped her foot against the floor. “Arleigh Donovan.”

  “That’s beautiful,” he said. “It suits you.”

  Arleigh sighed wearily. “Master Kendall, does your mind stay on a thought longer than a moment?” She sounded like Mrs. Nielson, his kindergarten teacher, who thought Ryder Kendall might need special education because he had a hard time learning his shapes.

  “Rectangle, square, what’s the difference?” he muttered. “Slow, my ass. I’d like to see Mrs. Nielson land here and deal.”

  Arleigh cleared her throat. “Cease talking to yourself. ’Tis not confidence I be having in you. Why do you think I need help?”

  “I saw you crying. I wanted to—”

  Sure, Ryder, tell her you want to fuck her. Get it out in the open so there won’t be any surprises later. She’ll probably throw herself into your arms and beg for it.

  “—to help you.” It sounded lame, and he knew it, but there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

  She frowned. “Has Stephen spoken of me?”

  “No, not exactly,” Ryder said. Her foot tapped that haphazard rhythm again. She glanced toward the frying pan. He reached into the pocket of his jeans, sliding the parchment from the book. “I have this.”

  She reached out for it, but he pulled it away.

  “The woman I met in this piece of paper had passed crying and moved to decision. It should have been intimidating, but you’re a tiny thing. A little scary, but—”

  “’Tis my letter! ’Twas not meant to be read by anyone. How did you get it?”

  “I found it in a book.”

  “You have books?”

  “Lots of books. I have one here.” He dug back into his pocket and pulled out the Keats, holding it toward her. “My favorite.”

  She held it in her hand like a treasure, running her fingers across the leather. She flipped to a page that had been turned down at its corner.

  “La Belle Dame Sans Merci,” she read.

  “That means The Beautiful Woman Without Mercy.”

  “I know what it means,” she snapped.

  “You speak French?”

  “I speak many languages,” she murmured.

  She held up her hand and began to read. He recited the words in his head, standing silently and patiently, he might add, while she read. She took a long time, but perhaps she read it twice or translated it directly to French. How many surprises would this woman have in store for him? When she looked up, her eyes were wide.

  “’Tis about me,” she whispered. “I’ve not heard of this Master Keats. When were these words written?”

  He reached out and retrieved the book, stuffing it back into his pocket. “Don’t change the subject. If you didn’t intend the letter to be read, why did you write it?”

  She looked down at her hand, fingers clenched as though holding a quill. He studied her face, and that look he had seen in the vision overshadowed her face. Heartbreaking, hopeless, melancholy, fragile. She stood in her bare feet, in a threadbare nightgown any of his sisters would have thrown in the trash, and yet she seemed almost regal, like a fairy princess.

  Arleigh was the most petite woman he had ever seen. His eyes dipped toward the neckline of her sleeping gown. Quickly, he glanced back at her face, guilty for inspecting her so thoroughly, but she had no idea he studied her. In his world, she would have been in shampoo commercials. Her hair hadn’t been brushed yet but it was hair women would kill for. He wanted to put his hands in it.

  She raised her eyes to his, and no anger lingered there, though tears had begun to sparkle.

  “’Tis hard to hold secrets,” Arleigh said. “Writing them down is pretext I’m an honest person instead of the liar I am.”

  “We all have secrets,” he said.

  “Not like mine.”

  She lowered her lashes, and they cast soft shadows on her cheeks. He wanted to reach across the space that divided them and take her in his arms. He thought she would fit perfectly and tuck right into the space—

  “Why are you looking at me like that? ’Tis not secrets on your mind. ’Tis a look like you mean to kiss me.” She reached out blindly toward the table and her fingers skimmed along the edge of the skillet.

  He held up his hands. “We have a no-hitting rule, remember? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you’re adorable.”

  She clenched her hands. Adorable? Hell, yes, but he thought she might also be schizophrenic. He had never known anyone who could switch gears as fast as she could. She took a very deep breath. Her breasts rose and fell, and Ryder wondered what they would feel like under his hands.

  “’Tis clarification we need here, Master Kendall.”

  “Ryder,” he said, peeling his gaze away from the soft skin. “Call me Ryder.”

  “Impossible. We’re not going to be that personal with one another.”

  He couldn’t stop the grin. “I’m planning to get very personal with you, Arleigh. It’s one of the reasons I’m here.” He took a step toward her, and she backed up. “And we’re already beyond that awkward getting-to-know-you phase. You’re standing here in a nightgown that leaves very little to the imagination, and I’m eager to see more. We can do the flowers and candlelight if you want, but I’m thinking all that crap might not be necessary between us. I’m pretty much fixating on what happens later.”

  Arleigh clenched her tiny fists and stomped her foot. “Stop looking at me like that!”

  He took a step toward her, and she scurried backwards. “I keep forgetting all this is just happening for you and very painful. You were probably in love with…my brother, and you’re in mourning. My comments are inappropriate, and I apologize.”

  Arleigh blinked. “I wasn’t in love with Stephen.”

  The grin seemed to have control of his facial muscles. “Good to know.”

  “And I’m not going to be in love with you, either. But ’tis more important to know you aren’t going to be in love with me.”

  “You’re a cocky little thing. Does insanity run in your family, too? Look, I read the letter. All about curses and love and some man coming to claim you. That, by the way, is going to happen over my dead body.”

  “A real possibility,” Arleigh said.

  Ryder shook his head. “The letter read like something out of a fairy tale, and I found it downright enchanting, but we’re in the real world here, at least I think we are. I’m still debating that. You’re cute as hell, but you have issues.”

  “What exactly are issues?”

  “You’re egocentric for one thing, maybe even a little narcissistic. You have a rather erratic temper, which makes me think you might be prone to violence. And you have all the classics. Power issues. Sex issues. Commitment issues. Psychiatry isn’t my thing. We’d need my sister Faith for that. She’s getting her masters right now, but she’d be pretty handy around here.”

  “You have a sister? I ne’er knew that. Stephen said naught about a family.”

  Ryder waved his hand. “Now you’re getting off the topic. We were talking about you. If I reevaluate that letter based on reality and not delusion, it’s not quite as romantic as I’d thought. I’m sorry to say it, Arleigh Donovan, but I think you have some serious problems.”

  “Aye, ’tis serious problems I have and you be one of the biggest. Cameron Flynn is another. When are we going to talk about him?”

  “Who the hell is this Flynn? Look, I’m probably here for a couple reasons and, irresistible as you are, you’re starting to distract me from the real problem. If you’re ha
ving trouble with this Flynn guy, we’ll deal, because there’s no room in my scenario for a boyfriend.”

  She cocked her head and a frown settled on her face.

  “Lover, then,” he said, “whatever you call them here.”

  “Cameron Flynn is not my lover!”

  “That’s a sex issue,” Ryder said.

  Arleigh flew across the room and struck him hard across the face. When she pulled back to hit him again, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her against him. Her hair smelled like violets, and he couldn’t help himself. He breathed in deeply and found it intoxicating.

  She struggled in his grip, but he held on. “Don’t do that again. I don’t think this is a vacation for me. Someone obviously has a plan here. They yanked me out of my life for some reasons, but since I’m on my own, I’ve decided what they are. Help the girls. Have you. If I have some time left, we can delve into whatever traumas you’ve had in your life. I’m always willing to help a damsel in distress. But right now those are priorities, and I’d appreciate if you would keep your psychological problems to yourself. They have nothing to do with us.”

  Arleigh gasped. “Master Kendall, there’s ne’er going to be an us.”

  “Don’t doubt it for a minute, Arleigh. There will be an us. But before I can get personal with you, I have a mission that isn’t quite so selfish, and, like I said, you’re distracting me. Where are the girls?”

  A hard rap struck the door, and Arleigh froze. Her glance darted toward the door then flew back to his face. She shoved her arms against his chest and pushed him across the room.

  “Hey, we’re in the middle of something here. We have to talk. What—”

  “Stop your yapping. Upstairs.”

  “Arleigh, come on, whoever it is—”

  “Go upstairs,” she growled. “’Tis more complications I don’t need right now. Do what I tell you!”

  Ryder backed through the open door and stumbled on the staircase. He opened his mouth to protest, but she closed the door in his face. Fine. He would wait while she took care of her boyfriend problems.

  Chapter 8

  Arleigh dashed across the room and grabbed her shawl from the bench. The door swung inward and Cameron Flynn appeared in the doorframe. In any other place, at any other time, to any other woman, Cameron Flynn would be considered a gorgeous man. But Arleigh knew better, and she knew Cameron was much more than a man.

  But looks could be deceiving, and as masculine specimens went, he was a fine one. Cameron exuded pure masculine strength and raw sexuality. A Ganconor held a very well favored place in the fae hierarchy. Cameron Flynn was a prince among his peers, and he took full advantage of his power. Though so much more than mortal now, he had always been a very dangerous man.

  That Flynn lived at all was a miracle, a wonder. It made her head spin because Cameron Flynn would never be a miracle. He was a bane, a malignancy that had appeared to infect her life, a curse fulfilled. That day seemed a lifetime ago, so much longer than half of a year since she had been abandoned on this distant shore.

  There would be no hope for her, no help from anywhere, certainly not from the strange man in her house. Cameron Flynn would use his power to get what he wanted, and she was the thing he desired most. She might be doomed but, despite waking with an overwhelming sense of dread, now that he’d come to her home, she realized she couldn’t possibly submit and let him win so easily.

  She lunged against him, and they stumbled across the sill. Flynn pulled her tight against him and his hand roamed across her back.

  “Not exactly how I expected to be greeted this morning. I expected you to come at me with a knife.”

  “I would have,” Arleigh mumbled, “if I’d a thought ’twould do any good.”

  Despite her anxiety, she forced her head up. He yanked her toward him, hard body pressed against hers, while his fingers dug cruelly into her skin through the nightdress. His mouth came down on hers in a brutal kiss that seemed endless. She struggled, but his grip tightened. She had no choice but to endure his mouth plundering hers. When he pulled away, he stared into her eyes, a devilish grin on his face.

  “I like the nightdress. Did you have something more than a kiss in mind this morning, love?”

  “I could have done without the kiss.”

  She pulled back and struggled in his arms, but he laughed and closed his mouth over hers again. She fell limply against him. When he pulled away, his glance flickered across the stone cottage.

  “I’d love to stand here and take advantage of your pliant flesh, but I have to get away from this house. Your damnable little faeries have spread their protection thick. It’s nauseating. We have some unfinished business between us, unless your enthusiasm this morning is a sign of consent.”

  “Ne’er will I consent,” she said, wiping her hand across her mouth. “What do you think you can do to me, Cameron? I’m attached to this property by papers. I belong to Fiana.”

  Flynn laughed. “Is that what you think?”

  “What in bloody hell are you talking about?” Arleigh snapped.

  “I’ll know more in a few days. We’ll talk then.”

  “You’re here. We’ll talk now,” Arleigh growled.

  She spun on her heel and stalked toward the river. When she reached the bank, she took a deep breath and turned to see him sauntering toward her. She tapped her foot against the grass and wanted to shriek to the heavens. The man, the creature, whatever he was, was so damned infuriating, she would have struck him dead again if she had the power.

  “Spit it out,” Arleigh snapped.

  “You’re a little bitchy this morning, Leanan sidhe,” Flynn said. “Too many dreams last night?”

  “My dreams are ne’er your business. Is this about Trinity? I know you want this land, but you’ll be getting it o’er my dead body.”

  Flynn shrugged. “I could arrange that, but let’s save it for another day, shall we? Today seems to be all about you. Why am I not surprised? What’s in that little mind of yours?”

  “I want to talk about the girls.”

  “They’re safe, warm, and well fed. Why are you so worried? You know I can’t hurt them. They’re bloody children, Arleigh. There are strict rules against harming a child.”

  “I want them back!”

  “You’ll have them back, but don’t push me on this or there will be consequences. We’ll do this my way. Are we clear?”

  “Why are you doing this to me, Cameron? Why are you taking your revenge on me through them?”

  “A necessary evil. I needed your complete attention.”

  “’Tis my attention you have, then. What are you planning in that demented mind of yours?”

  A feigned shock pulled at his face. “Why, faery mine, you’ve hurt my feelings.”

  “You have no feelings, and I’ll not be living the faery life any longer. And I’m not yours! Why did you come here?”

  “I missed your boundless charm,” he said.

  “Find the point, Cameron.”

  Flynn shrugged. “Fine. I’ve spoken with the governing council about your papers.”

  She glared up at him. “You had no right to do that. Fiana should have been consulted.”

  “I don’t consult children,” he snarled, “and I don’t consult indentures, but for some reason I’m feeling generous today. I don’t care what happens to those girls, but I do have a reputation in this colony, and I would like to appear magnanimous.”

  “Your chivalry is overwhelming.”

  His brow rose

  “Do you have any idea how much Caindale owed to me?”

  When she didn’t answer, he gripped her chin with his fingers, forcing her head up.

  “Answer me, Leanan sidhe.”

  “Stop calling me that. You know the Leanan sidhe exists no longer. I am Arleigh Donovan now. A human. A mortal. Why do you even waste your time with me? ’Tis nothing I should be to you.”

  “You are everything to me. I planned to buy you that first day you
arrived, lover, but Stephen Caindale seemed determined to have you. Almost obsessed. I can’t imagine why. Can you?”

  She tried to pull away, but he cupped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “I don’t like to think on that,” Arleigh whispered.

  “Alas, your powers are gone. The Leanan sidhe, the most beautiful and desirable of all faeries, exists no longer. Magic shown in your smile, seduction in your glance, and so many died of love for you. And yet I think they still pine for you, faery mine.”

  “’Tis human I am now,” Arleigh said, quietly.

  “Human, and yet so much more. There’s talk about you in the faery circles, lover. Even in this hellhole, I hear from the ethereal plane, and they still have an interest in you. Your passing seems to have left a wake of dead men across the Isles of Britain. They still die for your beauty. Do you still offer them heights of ecstasy in exchange for their souls? Does this mortal body work as well as the faery one you possessed?”

  Arleigh swung her arm toward his face, but he caught her wrist and laughed.

  “I’ve offended you. Poor, poor you. You are cursed in this mortal life, and Saint Stephen has paid for it.”

  “Leave Stephen out of this,” Arleigh said. “How much does he owe you? I’ll sell something, I’ll—”

  “Not possible. He owes me more than you can imagine, more than the profit he would have seen in three years of planting. Do you think his tiny daughters can manage to squeeze that much from this island?”

  Arleigh’s stomach heaved.

  “You have proof?” she asked. “Documents?”

  “Signed, sealed, and on file with the council. All legal and tidy and extremely official. I could destroy the Caindale girls and leave them destitute and homeless to recoup my losses. I have a more charitable solution. You want me to be charitable, don’t you?”

  Arleigh nodded, her stomach in knots.

  “Then you will probably agree with my proposal.” Flynn caressed her palm with his fingers. Small shivers ran up her spine. He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “Do you have any idea how much you’re worth on a piece of paper?”

  Arleigh shook her head, cringing.

  “A great deal, actually,” Flynn said. “The broker asked a bloody fortune for your indenture, but Caindale seemed determined to have you. His pockets were empty, but that wouldn’t dissuade him. I hope you fucked him before his unfortunate demise. A man deserves something for such a sacrifice.”